


Spellbinding

by vanceypants



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, OT3, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Rich Goranski, Transformation, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: two werewolves and their polyamorous spectre boyfriend walk into a bar-Jeremy and Michael are compelled by two things: the light of the full moon, and their shared adoration for their ghostly pervert of a boyfriend.  So if it’s as easy as robbing an all powerful sorcerer to bring him some of that sweet mortality that Rich so craves, what’s the harm?  Who said raising the dead had to be so difficult, man?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a Halloween fic. It's become a more momentous undertaking than I anticipated.  
> At any rate, this is my supernatural werewolf and ghost AU that I'm presenting to the world, with hopes that it brings some sort of enjoyment. I love this show, and I love this trio of characters in particular, and I love AU takes on characters, and, well, I love Halloween, even if I'm posting this two days late.  
> So happy belated Halloween, everyone! And thank you for reading!
> 
> And without getting too mushy, I want to thank my best friend MrSedusa and my girlfriend PeanootzRamano. Without their support, this story would never have been made (and when MsSedusa posts his spooky tale, you should DEFINITELY check it out, because it's phenomenal!). These are the best people you could ever know, and I'm lucky enough that they're MY people! 
> 
> BUT! You're here for a story and probably some porn, so without further ado, here's Spellbinding.

In retrospect, maybe robbing a death-defying sorcerer wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

But, Michael couldn’t help but think as Rich flexed his newly corporeal fingers with a sense of wide eyed wonder, it was hard to garner anything close to regret.

That was jumping the gun a little, though, wasn’t it?

It started--as things so often started for Jeremy and Michael--on the cusp of the full moon. 

And it started--as things so often started for Michael in particular--in the parking lot of 7/11.

The gobs of plasmic energy shooting past their heads in clumps of angered magical fury were new though.

“THIEVES!” The voice was wheezed and hacked, perhaps a side effect of too many potions or too many marlboros. “INTERLOPERS!”

“F-fucking...what kind of fucking...why would he t-take his tomes to the...to a fucking convenience store if he-”

“Didn’t want them McStolen? Beats the shit out of me, Jer.”

The windows of a Dodge Dart shattered as the magician’s latest spell ricocheted from its glass. Jeremy shrieked, Michael gasping for breath in asthmatic lungs, as his fingers grasped Jeremy’s wrist and tugged him out of the way of another shock of brilliant green energy.

“But maybe we can exposite our dialogue later, dude?”

“Wh...what?”

“Dunno, can’t breathe, fuck.”

His eyes flickered towards the trickling light of the sun. Towards the sinking of golden orb closer and closer to the horizon of the earth. Michael squeezed Jeremy’s wrist, a frantic tap of his fingertips against his flesh. Jeremy’s lips briefly quirked into a smile, more brilliant than the pinkened rays of setting sun, and Michael’s chest flip-flopped in an affectionate rush of-

“CRIMINALS! I’LL HAVE YOUR HEADS, HEATHENS!”

The heat of the next toxic rush of magic burrowed between them and Michael would have shrieked if he had enough breath to do so. He flung Jeremy in front of him, pressing now on his shoulder blades to urge him to move, to hurry. 

His own sneakers quivered against the uneven pavement, black tar parking lot smacking roughly against each footfall. His skin itched uncomfortably, his inner beast already desperate to break through his tenuous humanity. Fuck. Maybe that’d be good, though, for the sun to descend, to break from the bindings of asthma and basic human decency and tear out this old bastard’s throat before he had a chance of blasting Jeremy’s head straight from his neck.

Too brutal. He needed to dial it back a little. Besides, it was all big talk from someone who’d never mauled anything bigger than a raccoon in his life.

He shoved Jeremy directly into a bush at the edge of the parking lot, quickly diving in after him. He clapped a hand over his own mouth, fumbling back with the heels of his feet, to try to stifle his frantic desperate breathing. His eyes fluttered towards Jeremy, gripping his fingertips, and grateful to see that his arm still had the ancient spellbook tucked safely in place.

At least it hadn’t been for nothing then, right?

His eyes prickled anxiously, listening as a few more spells sparked and sizzled, but the man’s feet lead him outside of their periphery, until they were left with nothing but silence and the roar of the Jersey highway system blaring past quick stops and nothing towns like their own. 

Michael dropped his hand from his mouth, sucking in a gasp as Jeremy pulled his grip loose and reached into the pouched pocket of his hoodie. Jeremy fished out his inhaler, shoving it towards his mouth. The rush of medicine as he inhaled was soothing and cool, a salve to the burning terror of nearly suffocating from their momentum.

Jeremy watched him, his greyed eyes flickering about Michael’s appearance, nimble touch moving up to adjust his glasses carefully. “That...th-that was stupid.”

“Yeah.” Michael dropped back onto his elbows, looking up at the sky, his lower half of his body still tangled in the bush they’d dived into. “But is it really? I mean, we got it, didn’t we?”

Jeremy dropped the book from its place under his arm, letting it clatter into his lap. He looked at it, frown tugging at soft pink lips. “...we, uh, we don’t even know if it has what we need.”

“It’s got to!”

“It really doesn’t-”

“It will! I’m telling you, 4analmesh20 insisted-”

“Wh-what?”

“Huh?”

“Anal what?”

“That’s his screenname, Jer.” When Jeremy continued to look at him incomprehensibly, Michael rolled his eyes. “On WOW. Duh. It’s just a cool username.”

“What the hell is...in that context, what’s-”

“It’s just an anal mesh, don’t worry about it.”

“I just...god. If I’d known th-this was your great source, I’d...Christ, Michael.”

“He’s a good dude.” Michael felt his voice hitch with mounting irritation. “You can be pretty judgey, man.”

“I can be judgey?!”

“It’s true. You need to lighten up.”

Jeremy’s mouth pressed firmly together, a sharp contrast to the rounded gentleness of his face as a whole. “...okay,” He said, in that way that let Michael know that it definitely was Not Okay.

Michael released his breath carefully through flared nostrils. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, finally choosing a response. “What?”

“I just...I just think maybe we rushed into grand larceny a little soon, based on...based on the words of some ass masher-”

“Mesh, Jer. And grand larceny? God you’re so white sometimes.”

“And you’re completely reckless! “O-oh, meshmaster anus said we sh-should rob an old cashier because it might, um...because um...you know…” you know what, I don’t need to impersonate you, you’re just...you don’t think things through!”

“We lived, didn’t we?” Jeremy began to shift his hands through his pockets. Michael sighed, as he drew out a small capsule of pills. “Really? You’re going to do that now?”

Jeremy undid the cap, shaking two glittering tablets into his palm. “What? It’s a full moon.”

“So what?”

“I’m just trying to...one of us has to be safe.”

“Oh. So I’m unsafe now!”

Jeremy fixed his gaze on him tiredly. “I just said you’re reckless, didn’t I?”

“Reckless.”

“You robbed a wizard-”

“WE robbed a wizard.”

“...f-fine, I’m reckless too. But, um, shut up, maybe?”

Michael stuck his tongue out at him, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the book from Jeremy’s lap. “Fine. Take your damn pills. See if I care.”

He tried to ignore the sound of Jeremy dry-swallowing the silver tablets. And tried to ignore the pain of knowing his boyfriend willingly poisoned himself under some misdirected assumption that he was inherently evil, that he needed to be contained, that a little bit of toxicity would delay some inevitable attack.

It was easier to try to ignore these things with how heavy the spellbook was. Michael strummed his thumb against the pages, whistling lowly. 

“There’s a lot here. And most of it’s in English! That’s pretty lucky, right?”

“Very lucky,” Jeremy said dryly. “This...this entire venture has been extremely filled with...with luck.”

Michael narrowed his eyes as he looked at him, before turning back to the book. He flipped through the pages. “Impotence. Hair loss. Limb restoration. Curses, hexes, and voodoo. There’s...there’s some really good stuff here!”

“Right, if you’re balding and vengeful, this is abso, uh, absolutely the text for you.”

“Exactly!” Michael smiled. “Glad you’re getting into the spirit finally.” 

Still, as fun as all of these spells and banter was, it wasn’t helpful to their needs. Michael thought of Rich, floating and aimless within their home, and he began to flip frantically through the pages. 

Jeremy stared at the sky instead. “...we should have done this at a different time.”

“Huh?”

“We’re...we’re going to run out of time.”

‘We’re not going to run out of time.”

“We’re going to run out of time and...and one of us is going to chew up the book and...a-and it’ll piss off that wizard more, and we won’t be able to help Rich, and-”

“Jeremy, calm down. We have, like, seven minutes until the sun goes down. How long can it take to perform a--HA! A resurrection spell! I’m a genius! Kiss my ass! I’m the best!”

“...Rich is really starting to, uh, rub off on you.”

“I don’t hear you kissing, Jer.”

“Wha…?”

“I, uh, cause I said to kiss my...um. Nevermind. Let’s see.” His fingers moved under the slightly raised ink of the text, handscrawled. “...so we need to draw a diagram and do a simple chant.”

“A diagram?”

“A, like, picturey spelly thing? I don’t speak wizard, Jer! Look!” He held up the page, pointing to the sigil in the midst of the page. “One of these.”

“A sigil?”

“Words are soooo easy when you know them, aren’t they? Oh I’m Jeremy Heere and I’m a Word Wizard.”

“Rich is really rubbing off on you.”

“Except my impressions are actually spot on.”

“Whatever.” Jeremy waved his hand back and forth slightly. “4/10.”

“Excuse you! I’m a 4/20, easily!”

“That’s technically worse.”

“I-”

“Sun is setting, Michael. We, uh, we don’t have, um, we don’t have time for you being cute.”

“Aw.”

“-and stupid. I was...I was going to add that, you cut me, um, off.”

“Double aw. Fine. Let’s get scribbly.”

It took two minutes out of their countdown to find an appropriately sharp stick with which they could scribble the symbol into the dirt.

And another 1 minute of rock paper scissors to figure out who would draw it (“if I do it and mess it up and turn Rich into some sort of drooling ghoul or something, we’re blaming you,” Jeremy snapped).

And another minute more to bicker about the placement of the lines (“are you sure they’re supposed to crisscross like that?” “E-everyone’s a critic!”).

Which left-

“Three minutes,” Jeremy breathed.

“Here, just read-”

Jeremy shoved against the book, pushing it back into Michael’s arms. “I-I drew the st-stupid thing, I’m not...you don’t want me stuttering through...I can barely form a sentence, you goof!”

“Oh please, you talk fine-”

“F-fuck off with that. Talk fine my...talk fine my ass!”

“Mmmm. Fine ass.”

“Michael! Three...shit, probably closer to two….two minutes until-”

“Setting sun, right, right, I get it, I get it.”

“A-and you’re sure this is a good spell?”

“What?”

“Are we even...is this even...how’s the magic going to know to go to Rich?”

“I don’t know. Something about intentions or something?”

Jeremy bit his lip, his knees wobbling as he stood on the outer rim of the dirt-carved sigil. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“Not with that lack of good intentions it won’t,” Michael tried not to snap. But Jeremy’s vibes were seriously harshing his mellow. He gripped the spell book, clearing his throat.

It was like singing along to his favorite song.

If his favorite song was filled with latin and smudged handwriting.

And if his favorite song lacked any backing vocals, and instead had Jeremy’s judging, eyebrow-raised gaze fixed on him instead.

In fact, it was nothing at all like singing along to his favorite song. Michael, suffering from no impediments in speech, had assumed it’d be more easy than this. But he felt sweat prick at his brow as he chanted each word, more pointed but somehow shakier with each and every syllable. Until by the end, his arms were quivering and crumbling under the weight of the book.

It dropped and clattered in the center of the ancient symbol, pages opened towards the heavens. Michael panted, falling to his knees and staring with wide eyed shock at-

“That’s it?”

Michael’s eyes lifted to Jeremy, who’d folded his arms over his cardigan. His mouth was twisted into a grimace of disbelief.

“That was...that’s it? Nothing even happened!”

“I feel like something definitely happened there.”

“Right. You forgot to breathe while you were reading, and you...and you fell. That was the big magic moment.”

“I didn’t forget to breathe,” Michael wheezed, and sucked in a betraying breath in the same moment. 

“You did it every time you had to read outloud in class, I know you. Fuck. We nearly died for nothing.”

“He’s really magic, dude. The near-death proves that much, right?”

“...right.”

“So why can’t you have a little faith, huh?”

“Since when are you the...the optimist here?”

“It’s all that reckless ass meshing, dude.” He grinned as Jeremy rolled his eyes, though a smile toyed with Jeremy lips at the same time. “Come here.”

Jeremy offered another eye roll, but stepped closer. Michael’s hands pressed against his hips. “What?”

“Just come here.” Michael tugged off his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. He knew better, this close to a sunset, than to keep his glasses on. He rested his forehead against Jeremy’s, watching the way his fuzzy features swirled into a familiar set of colors and shapes. His hands slipped back, resting against Jeremy’s lower back. “It’s going to work.”

“I-”

“It’s going to work, Jer.” His lips tasted poisonous, but sweet. A flash of silver against familiar Jeremy sugar. “It’s going to work. If not now, then the next time. It’s going to work.”

“I just-”

“Don’t want to get your hopes up. I know. But it’s going to be…” He trailed off, the first hints of darkness beginning to close around them. He winced, anticipating the crunch of bone and sprout of bristling fur. He kissed Jeremy again, lingering against him a moment longer. “...it’s going to be okay.”

“...maybe.” Jeremy pressed up flush against Michael’s body. His head drew back, only to nestle against Michael’s shoulder. His face pressed against the crook of his neck. “I just want...want him to be happy. And you. I want you to be happy. I...you’ll be so upset if it doesn’t work…”

“I mean, like, that’s a sweet thought, but uh, not to break the mood, we should get naked now I think.”

“What?”

“Moon.”

“You want me to moon--oh, right, the moon. The lunar cycle. That moon. Right.”

Michael snorted. “I just know you like that outfit, that’s all. Don’t need to tear it.”

“Yeah yeah.” Jeremy slipped out of Michael’s arms, and began to peel off his cardigan. “It’s not like I have a shortage of...of cardigans and striped shirts.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of a cartoon character with your slight color variations in otherwise identical choices, dude.”

“I’m not that repetitive.”

“Right. You do have that one Eminem shirt.”

“Sh-shut up, it was a dumb phase, Michael!”

“Uh huh. I know the truth. You’re an angry white bro underneath all that trembling Jewish exterior.”

“Trembling what?” He blinked, blushing just slightly as he lifted his shirt off overhead. 

He still did that, glowed pink when undressing. As though uneasy still with his own body. Michael burned with how badly he wanted to touch him in those moments. He realized he was biting his own lip now, digging teeth in with a sense of carnal longing.

“Uh, I don’t remember what I said,” Michael breathed. “But-”

“You need to hurry and, uh, take your stuff off too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael hated the moments of blindness that came with pulling his hoodie off overhead. He’d had the sense to dress lightly, keeping nothing on his torso save for the familiar red fabric. He sucked in his gut, his own little continued instinct, as he dropped the fabric to the ground. Kicking off his shoes, he looked towards Jeremy again, who’d already stripped down to his briefs. Perfectly fitted against that stupidly perfect ass of his. 

Michael nearly moaned. But maybe that was part of the moon’s intoxication.

Jeremy stretched, his entire body shifting intricately with every movement. The gorgeous inward sway of his waistline, the way his hips flared more than Michael would have dared expect from a boy, the pale lines of his legs. Lunar intoxication his ass. Jeremy was the real drug here. Michael sighed, a dreamy little sound, as he stared at his impeccable, adorable boyfriend. 

“What?” Jeremy’s thumbs had hooked into the waistband of his underwear, hovering precariously.

“You’re just, uh,” Michael looked down at the ground, toeing at the dirt. “You’re just, um, really cute, that’s all.”

Jeremy’s expression softened. “...th...thank you.”

“Seriously, you’re a real,” Michael paused, considering his adjective possibilities. Something fitting and touching and charming. “Babesicle.”

“What?”

“Like a...like a popsicle but…”

“Um, so you want to pop me in your mouth or, uh, like, that’s what I’m getting here.”

“Yeah. Yeah! See, you made it more clever. A smart babesicle.”

“Well, you’re...o-ow, Jesus.”

Michael started to question it, to ask if the ows were an allusion to size or some other clever thing, but then he felt the familiar flickers of fire and pain within his own joints.

The moon was making its ascent up to the heavens, casting its full lighting down onto parking lots and farm lands and mostly-naked teenage boys who’d just made themselves into part-time spellcasters. And Michael’s body would act whether or not his mind fought.

But fight he did. Michael grimaced, yanking down his jeans roughly, gracelessly. He owned too few pairs to risk splitting another pair down the seams. Besides, ripping their clothes now would make the effort of walking home in the morning that much more awkward.

Jeremy whimpered in pain, the sounds growing shriller and more animalistic with each passing second. Michael tried to open his mouth, to say something comforting, but he felt his jaw pop, his teeth ungainly and full within his lips. They exploded like glass shards, slicing and jagged within his gums. 

And just when he was certain his mouth couldn’t contain anymore influx of tooth growth, his jaw jerked and popped again, the lower half distending further and further. He moaned, drool spilling down his face in a slimy trail. He could feel his limbs grow longer, the muscle filling in sharper than he’d ever grow in his waking life. Briefly, he caught sight of Jeremy, curled into a fetal ball on the ground, leg twitching, his tail already fully formed and tucked pitifully.

He wanted to help him. He wanted to help him as much as he wanted to tear off his own flesh. It wasn’t so much self destruction as wanting to relieve the tightness of his own body, as another pop of bones warped his spine and mangled his legs. 

It didn’t seem to grow any easier, did it? Nearly a decade now, since that fateful evening. Since they’d been pinned to the ground and systematically…

...bitten. That was the only part that mattered. They’d been bitten. Almost ten years now, and a transformation every month, and how did he not find it any easier? Each time opened wounds fresh and reminded him of levels of pain he’d never before imagined physically possible.

His psyche warbled and warped as his shoulders forcibly hunched, his fingers elongated, as his toes curled into clawed vestiges. His throat quivered, the urge to scream exploding out as his head fell back in a long, drawn out howl.

***

“Michael.”

“Hnn.”

“Michael…”

Michael’s skin prickled. His eyes fluttered, squeezing closed that much more aggressively. He turned onto his other side, as a small poke dug into his side.

“Mi...Michael, come on.” The voice hissed insistently, gentle as it was constant. 

“What?” Michael kept his eyes closed but the word slipped from his swollen lips all the same. His knees curled in closer to his chest, as Jeremy’s fingers scraped over his scalp.

“The sun’s up.”

“So what?”

“So,” Jeremy laughed softly. “So we need to, um, find our clothes.”

Michael’s eyes finally began to open. They’d ended up deeper into the woods which surrounded the convenience store (or hell, Michael thought hopelessly, they could be anywhere. His sense of direction was always at its worst after wolfing out), and the sun’s beams almost seemed solid in the golden mists they cast between tree branches. Leaves clung and stuck with dew to Michael’s naked body.

Jeremy trailed a finger idly up and down Michael’s chest. His face was pink, and bruised, and dirty, and Michael was torn between concern about his scrapes and injuries, and wanting to pin him against the nearest tree.

His hormones were always at their worst after wolfing out too.

“Any clue where we are?”

Jeremy shrugged, his finger continuing its up and down momentum over his chest. It dipped lower, brushing over Michael’s abdomen, the swell of his stomach, before moving back up. He flicked a leaf off Michael’s shoulder. “I mean, it smells familiar…?”

“It smells like wet leaves and dirt, Jer. Like every other time.”

“Well, that’s...that’s not true. We’ve, uh, we’ve woken up in literal dumpsters before. And those smelled way worse.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’m glad I don’t have to pick banana peels off my nutsack again, that’s for sure.”

Jeremy snorted. “Gross.”

“You’re telling me.” He scooted closer, resting his head against Jeremy’s shoulder. “You smell good though.”

“Not like, um, a dumpster?”

“Or dirt.”

“That’s...that’s good. I use body wash, so, um...so I’m pretty fresh.”

“And you go through a lot of lotion.”

“...yeah, well, that’s, uh, that’s for different purposes…”

“Oh, I know what you use it for, Captain Masturbatorium.”

“I prefer, um, like...I prefer literally any other name, actually.”

“Captain Whack-it?”

“A little better.”

Michael laughed, his hand sliding over Jeremy’s thigh. He listened for that tell tale hitch of his breath, kissing his neck once he earned it. He squeezed him, slipping his hand between his legs and rubbing against the soft skin of his inner thigh, up and down until Jeremy shivered.

“We don’t really need to find out clothes just yet, right?”

“Um.” Jeremy smiled, a crooked, perverted little expression against an otherwise serene face. “I guess we can wait.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, you know, we’ve earned it, I think.” Jeremy gasped as Michael pressed him down flat on his back. Michael slipped one leg over Jeremy’s body, until he was straddling him. His hands moved, placing against his chest instead. “Like, um, we did a lot of, um, cardio…”

“So our reward is more cardio? Seems a little messed up if you ask me.” Michael brushed his thumbs over Jeremy’s nipples, just to feel his body roll up against him. He moved back, until the underside of his cock brushed against Jeremy’s. A playful little move, that made him bite the inside of his own cheek. 

Jeremy’s body curved against the dirt and leaves and grass. His eyes fell half-closed, lips parted, and his dull blush glowed crimson over the bridge of his nose, over the height of his cheekbones. His throat quivered with every swallow, and Michael could make out the bite marks that he must have left on him during the night. The claw marks from grasping onto him.

Distantly, he could feel the memories tug, almost there. Memories of hunching over each other, of mounting his best friend like a bitch, like his bitch, and taking him, all snarl and noise and desperation and animal frenzy.

Michael’s vision, already foggy without his glasses, grew all the hazier with the almost-memories. He wobbled, another glide of his hips, and Jeremy breathed his name so sweetly that he thought he might die right then and there.

It was more magical than any spell in any spell book and--

Shit. They really should have been hurrying home, to check on Rich, to see if-

Jeremy cupped Michael’s face in his hands, pulling him forward until their lips met. Michael’s tongue brushed over his mouth until he was granted entrance, brushing over Jeremy’s tongue in playful, tantric movements. Jeremy’s hands slid back, tangling into the back of Michael’s hair. The slight tension of fingernails against scalp only enticed Michael further. His cock throbbed against Jeremy’s. 

“Michael,” Jeremy sighed, as Michael broke their kiss for a much needed rush of oxygen. “Michael, I-”

“-need your dick sucked?”

“Wha...what?”

Michael tried not to smirk. Really. He did try. But sometimes Jeremy was just so cute and so flustered and it made him feel so much more powerful than he really had any right to feel. He kissed him again, this time on his chin, then slipped down, slinking down his body, and pushing Jeremy’s legs apart in the process, until he was curled up between his thighs, his mouth parallel with his navel. He kissed just beneath it, feeling the way Jeremy’s body fluttered with every movement. He looked up at him, pleased to see the way Jeremy continued to fix his gaze downward upon him.

“Sorry,” Michael shrugged, as his fingers deftly wrapped around the base of Jeremy’s cock. “It’s just, you know, it’s right here, and I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“N-neither have I,” Jeremy clearly wanted to sound annoyed. To sound huffy. But instead, he sounded breathless, and bubbly, and floaty. He smiled, this hazy little smile that lit up the entirety of his face.

Michael squeezed his dick, his thumb sliding up until it pressed against the very tip of him. His other hand once more reached up, tweaking one of Jeremy’s nipples.

“You are so fucking cute,” he insisted, kissing his pelvis.

“Can, uh, can you um,” Jeremy laughed briefly. “God, talking is...t-talking is almost impossible,” and indeed, his voice did seem to be cutting out worse than usual. “Can y-you...y-y’know. Do the thing?”

“The thing?”

“Yeah.”

Michael racked his brain, trying to comprehend what ‘the thing’ might be. The only ‘thing’ he could think that Jeremy might mean was-

“Oh! Yeah. One deluxe blowjob, just for you. Just because you’re stupidly cute, though, obviously.”

“O-of co-course.” Jeremy trembled, licking his lips, as Michael rested his chin against his stomach. 

Michael slipped two of his own fingers into his mouth, sucking on them idly, while his other hand stroked Jeremy slowly, from the base up to the tip. He squeezed as he stroked, mindful of his pressure. As he sank back down to the base again, he grew more fervent in his sucking, soaking his digits as thoroughly as he could with his own saliva.

His eyes fixed onto Jeremy’s. He could see him struggle, fighting to keep his eyes open, and uncrossed, with every bit of electric pressure and friction. Michael rotated his hand, just slightly, grazing his thumb against the bottom of his cock, the veins which ran so naturally underneath the skin. It thrilled him, the life and pulse and throbbing heat of him, how he could cradle and touch him so fully, that Jeremy let him do this to him. Out here, no less, in the open. Sure, they were probably isolated enough that no one would see them.

But they hadn’t exactly ventured out to be sure. They could be wrong. They could be found. Seen.

And wasn’t that exciting, on its own? Michael’s lips twitched around his fingers, eyes closing briefly to savor in the danger of it all.

“Michael, p...ple…” Jeremy’s toes curled desperately. 

Michael drew his fingers from his mouth with a lewd little pop, eyes fluttering open as he looked at him longingly. He opened his mouth, trying to think of a clever comeback. To quip something charming and maybe a touch annoying.

Jeremy whined softly, legs spreading that much more fully. Desperate didn’t even begin to cover it. Michael’s pulse jumped frantically, and he dropped his hand down between Jeremy’s legs.

One hand still centered around his cock, with every slow stroke fully completing from the base to the precum-glistening tip, Michael’s other hand began to work lower. His index finger rubbed against his ass, pressing until he was rubbing against him, not yet inside, instead rimming the periphery of him. Jeremy lifted his hips, just slightly, forcing a better angle and pressing the first knuckle of his finger inside.

Oh. Oh, he’d definitely fucked him the night before. Michael’s finger, already slick with his own spit, eased in all the easier with the aid of his own cum, from hours before.

Jeremy seemed to grow more aware of this sensation with the insertion of Michael’s finger. His fingers scratched at the dirt beneath him, lips moving soundlessly, as though to apologize, perhaps, or perhaps just to moan Michael’s name. Whatever the case, nothing coherent left him, nearly as wordlessly animalistic as he’d surely been last night.

Michael slipped his head lower, pressing a kiss to the head of Jeremy’s cock. His skin was so hot, hot surrounding his finger, and hot here, against his lips. His mouth parted, tongue slowly lapping against the slit of his cock. His precum was warm, too, salty and familiar and addicting. Michael’s skin prickled with goosebumps, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself into Jeremy’s body. To completely absorb into him, or perhaps to consume him.

Or maybe it was just as simple as him really wanting to fuck him.

Whatever the case, he needed more than a small taste. He curled his lips around his teeth, taking the tip of his cock between his lips and carefully sucking him. Jeremy’s hips jerked, as carefully controlled as he could bring himself. Michael kept one hand against the base of his cock, steadily fingering him with rolling, beckoning motions with his finger. He sank lower against his cock, tongue flat and fluid and aching for every taste he could earn. 

Jeremy squeaked, his sounds tiny and stunned, as though he’d never been blown before. He always reacted so novelly to everything, moving and moaning like a virgin despite a history of experience. Michael smiled against him, easing index finger back, only to have it joined by his middle finger. Both entered him, coaxing and thrusting, and he felt the muscles of Jeremy’s body constrict wonderfully against him.

His mouth pulled back, until he was just around the tip, before sinking down lower, nearly halfway down his shaft this time. Jeremy groaned, dirt caking underneath his fingernails, body straining upward. Another pattern, another drift upward, only to take still more this next go around.

What Michael had yet to take into his mouth, he worshipped with his hand, stroking upward, squeezing. He swirled his tongue over him, and felt the tip of his cock hit just so against the back of his throat. It was more comforting than distressing, a sense of accomplishment.

As his fingers hit just right inside him, Jeremy’s small whines becoming desperate sobs, body nearly thrashing in desperation. He slammed his hips down against Michael’s fingers, rutting himself until digits pressed perfectly against his prostate. 

Michael would have beamed if it weren’t for the placement of his lips. Instead, he concentrated on his lips, stroking and caressing fingers continuing on autopilot.

God, his cock was aching, a desperate throb between his legs, neglected and needy.

Jeremy couldn’t even gasp a warning, as he came with a weeping cry. His hands left the dirt, pressing instead against the back of Michael’s head, his entire body constricting and pressing to his face, his hands, his everything. Like Michael were his entire center of gravity.

Michael swallowed against him, around him, even as he felt cum drip down his lips, sloppy and wasteful. He kept his fingers inside Jeremy, even as he slid his mouth away from his dick. His tongue lapped at his lips, though he couldn’t resist rubbing his chin and mouth off against the back of his free arm.

Jeremy stared at him, wild eyed and frantic, his breathing sporadic and rapid. He finally managed a blink, and a helplessly giddy little smile.

“W...wow.”

“I know, right?” Michael grabbed one of Jeremy’s hands, examining the mud-caked nails, the cracks from scratching too frantically. “You’re going to need a serious manicure after that.” He kissed the back of his hand, only for Jeremy to tug it back, lightly smacking his shoulder.

“J-just…” He swallowed, trying to sit up, but the placement of Michael’s fingers within him was enough to keep him still. He glowed, glancing down to verify the pressure within himself, before taking in Michael’s expression. “N-need to help you now.”

It was disjointed and breathy and nearly inaudible...and so perfectly needed that Michael nearly swooned.

“Yeah,” He said. “Yeah, I think we have time for that.”

***

By the time they returned to their clothing, it was nearly noon. Michael watched Jeremy pull on his clothes, bit by bit, piece by piece, and felt so full of pride and adoration that he was sure he’d burst.

It was nice, he thought. The days after full moons were such a cathartic release.

Or maybe it was just nice getting laid. Then again, there was no shortage of that in their household. He slipped into his hoodie, returning his glasses to his face, and casually finger-combing his hair.

Even his hair got fingered. It was a good life.

He smiled faintly at his own internal joke, and giggled when Jeremy looked at him oddly.

“You...you were just thinking some, um, some weird dirty pun, w-weren’t you?”

“So what if I was?”

“So you’re a dork.” Jeremy said. He picked up the spellbook. “G-guess he never came back for it.”

“Well, we were masters at hiding.”

“Should we, uh...should we return-”

“Nah. We might need it. In case the first spell didn’t--I mean, it DID work, but in case it didn’t, you know?”

“We should probably go home and check on, um, check on Rich either way, though.”

“Yeah. Good point.”

They walked hand in hand, Jeremy swaying only slightly with the faintest of limps. Michael smiled affectionately at him, hand holding eventually becoming hip cradling, pulling Jeremy up flush against his body.

“It’s too warm for this,” Jeremy tried to complain, but rested his head against his shoulder all the same. Their bodies fit well together.

Almost as well together as the boards of their house didn’t fit together.

It wasn’t that they lived in a dump, per se. It was...it was a fixer upper, their real estate agent had said, with a cheery vampire grin and SPF 5000 glistening from her skin. It had character. It had charm.

It had a ghost.

Had, Michael told himself. Past tense. They would open the door, and their newly flesh and blood boyfriend would bolt into their arms, and-

The door fell off the hinges the moment Jeremy tried to fit the key into the lock.

“...that’s new,” Michael said slowly.

And then their eyes drifted inward, to the cacophony of every dish they’d ever owned shattered across the linoleum, to every bit of furniture overturned and smashed. Like a tornado had crashed overnight on the couch, and then set the couch on fire.

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy said.

And they both looked at each other in terror. “Rich!” Their voices rang out, footsteps stumbling into the house with echoed urgency.

To say the next sight was shocking would have been a discredit to shocks.

But then, they’d decided to meddle in magic after moving into a haunted house and dating said haunting. Perhaps they’d reached their daily allotment of spooks and shocks for a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 2

Things Rich had forgotten for $500:

How weird skin felt against his bones.

Was that phrased like a question? THat’s how that gameshow worked, right? Response in the form of question. Yeah, it seemed about right.

...why was he thinking about Jeopardy rules right now when he had actual bones in place of ectoplasm, and actual skin in place of ghoulish glow, and-

This was the part where he tried to backtrack for perspective. But how could he have any perspective when one moment, he’d been enjoying a Saturday full moon sulking in the parlor he was meant to be haunting, idly touching himself to his boyfriends’ yearbook pictures, and the next…

Rich stared at his hands. The knuckles so artfully carved, each divot and crease and scar. The way the tips glowed red, as though the heat had pooled into the ends for conservation of energy. The way his veins peeked out, a shot of sapphire blue, through the milky canvas of his flesh. He balled his hands into fists, just to watch them flex underneath his skin. Veins. Carrying blood. From a pulsing heart within his-

Jesus. His could feel his pulse. He pressed his palm against his chest, let out a yelped little cry of surprise as he felt it flutter into his palm. His eyes were wide, shifting back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and he couldn’t make sense of the spinning of the room or the sensation of his own weak knees, but he knew he had a pulse, somehow, someway, a beating heart, and how could he have a beating heart when-

He couldn’t even finish a single thought. Scattering about within the breeze, except this time his form was too solid to completely flutter away in a well-placed gust. 

But damn did the house ever look a mess. The room stalled enough for him to take in the cabinets, doors hanging from the hinges. That seemed hardly right. Had he done that? His brow furrowed, and Rich tried to fit together the play by play in chronological order. 

And he tried to pick himself up, to stand up, but quickly found his own body weight too imposing to fight again. He fell back down, a cold sweat dotting his forehead from the exertion. What the hell had happened? 

Because his boyfriends would be home soon. And they’d surely expect an answer, for this flesh and blood form, and for the state of destruction of their own home. Rich hadn’t done much in terms of haunting even in the beginning, nothing beyond an occasional shattered glass or flickering light. This was some advanced poltergeisting.

Shit.

Maybe there was a second ghost in the house.

...no. He rubbed his forehead. No, that wasn’t likely. What the hell had happened? It wasn’t like he’d blacked out, but it had just been so sudden, a sharp grip of tension, almost as though being popped out of his transparent frame, and poured into a replica of his pre-fire body.

Maybe it was a pressure thing. Like the universe had compressed tight, and the sensation had caused the total cacophony of mess within the house. Rich glanced to the ground, the glass shards scattered about, the picture frames laying face-down. He winced, guilt rubbing like sandpaper at his insides, as he pressed his hand to the back of his neck.

His solid, warm, living neck.

And guilt gave way to a dopey little smile.

It was lucky that he’d been in the living room when the mysterious transformation sequence had struck, the little open concept space where he was able to keep his eyes on the front door, and analyze the majority of the damage, without any need to uproot himself. Because each attempt to move proved a reminder that he’d atrophied in his skills, had become complacent in floating and ghosting about. Was that his fate? To finally have a body again, a life, a pulse (a real pulse! Once again, he touched his chest, and rather than a rush of dysphoric uneasiness, settled into glee at the pitter-patter of his heart), but to be unable to actually get up and move.

He supposed he could learn how to navigate without walking. But it was frustrating. Not frustrating enough to unnerve or sadden him. Just frustrating enough to leave him determined. He’d fix it. He had the means now. 

Because this seemed to be a permanent thing. Right? It’d be cruel otherwise, to tease and…

...maybe it was a dream.

Did he even dream anymore? Rich tried to remember the last time he’d slept--really slept, and not just pretended to rest his eyes for a few hours because Michael and Jeremy were both unconscious and he hadn’t wanted to be left out--and he couldn’t recall any dreams in his unlife. 

Was this the next step to the afterlife? Had his ghostly days been a prerequesite to heaven?

Or hell?

He curled his toes, and giggled slightly, because the joints popped, and it was a funny sound, and a living sound, and it was all his. He was pretty sure if this was the beginning of hell, he wouldn’t be able to laugh. Right?

“Jesus Christ.”

Oh, the sun must have risen, because that was distinctly Jeremy’s voice. Rich tilted his head towards the door. The frame, rather, where the door had been. He winced. He hadn’t noticed that. Man, he really should have a better perspective of what had happened. And of time. Had he really been sitting here for hours, just pondering the wonders of his heartrate and the unreality of it all?

They didn’t notice him, not right then. Michael and Jeremy, scratched and dirty and with their clothes inside out and backwards, smelling of sex and adrenaline, scanned the interior of the house. Rich could practically taste their terror, and that was before they cried out his name, before stumbling over each other to try to get into the building.

“Whoa, broskis, I’m right here.” Even his voice felt heavier. Thick and husky and trapping within him for a moment, as though it had forgotten what it was like to navigate the folds and synapses of a living human throat. He coughed, touching his neck for a moment as he tried to clear it. To be able to speak more clearly.

Except the way Jeremy and Michael looked at him made him forget language all over again.

Michael gawked. Jeremy ogled. Or maybe he had it backwards. Whatever the case, wide eyes traced over him.

“Y...y-your eyes are green,” Jeremy finally said.

And turned red. As Michael looked at him with an incredulous sort of lack of amusement.

And as Rich cackled. “Yeah. What’d you think they were?”

“I don’t...I d-don’t know. I mean, they were...they were sort of g-grey bef--”

“Who cares what color his eyes are, Jer?”

“Wow, fucking rude, Mikey,” Rich tried to stretch, but his muscles refused to complete the rotation. He curled in on himself against the couch, feeling the way simple conversation heated his skin, left him more warmed and vibrant with each moment. It was more exhausting, trying to quip when he was hyper-aware of every muscle that had to work in order to trigger the cycle. “Queere’s just, uh, smitten with my, um...you two are staring a lot, you know?”

And they were. Two pairs of eyes, trained onto Rich’s body. He thought back to the first moment he’d seen them, the way Jeremy had tried to physically pick Michael up to carry him over the threshold, and the way they’d laughed when they’d wobbled and fallen. A bit of play going too far, Michael grabbing Jeremy’s arms and pinning him down onto the very carpet he’d just fallen down on.

Oh yeah. And then they’d fucked. That had been his first image of them. Rich squirmed, considering how hyped he’d been for someone to move into the newly renovated house. The memories and char which had been chipped away piece by piece, and rebuilt into a starter home free from the memories of homicide and gloom.

Rich bit the inside of his cheek, if only for the shot of pain to remind him to stay in the moment. To remember where he was. Not the night he’d been doused in gasoline. Not the day he’d proclaimed his destiny to be haunting the two twinkling geeks before him. But the here and now. With his beating heart and two boys staring at him the way that kids stared at the sun when their parents instructed them to look away. Like he was maybe bad for them, but intoxicatingly magnetic.

Or like he was cute, maybe. Or maybe it was just plain disbelief. Rich offered a crooked smile.

“What, man?” 

“You’re alive,” Michael said. 

“Yeah. Pretty fucking sweet, right?”

Jeremy nodded, and Michael clutched onto what looked like some 17th century cookbook or some such nonsense. Michael shook the book, spine wobbling with the momentum.

“I knew it would work!” He looked at Jeremy. “I knew it would work!”

Jeremy sighed, dainty eyes turning decisively within their sockets. He looked at Rich with a sense of annoyance. “He’s never...like, he’s um, he’s never going to let it go.”

“You said it wouldn’t work. You said it was a bad idea-”

“I didn’t say it was bad! I said w-we needed to think it through a, um, little more. And we did. We almost died-”

“Wait, you guys almost died?” Rich tried to cut in.

But this was a dance between Jeremy and Michael. And he groaned in annoyance as they continued their bickering.

“We didn’t almost die, Jer. You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic-”

“This is why you were a thespian-”

“I d-did one play, and it was...w-was a disaster if you remember-”

“And this is why I should be trusted with all the major plans-”

“O-oh right, like when you tried to o-open your own dispensary in the...in the...yeah. That was a good idea.”

“Can we get back to the part where you guys almost died?” Rich held up one finger emphatically.

Michael waved one hand towards him, silently shushing him. “That was a great idea, but you sabotaged it.”

“Sabotaged it?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I was the only one watering-”

“Died! Almost died. Hello!”

“Yes yes, Rich, uh huh,” Michael spoke so absently that it almost would have been better to have been completely ignored instead. “Yeah, okay, so you watered the plants, Jer, but where were you when I had to eat half our stock?”

“I-it’s not my fault you made brownies, Michael.”

“You bought butter! What was I supposed to do?”

“It was on sale! It was for...for actual baking, you loon. I-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rich pushed against the couch with his palms. Here he was, full bodied, full pulsed, and his boyfriends were talking about some pot business venture which, from what Rich remembered, had been a non-starter from the beginning anyway, who the hell were they kidding? And besides- “Who gives a fucking shit?”

He lit up, his body balancing on his bare feet, toes fluttering over the carpet. He held up his arms triumphantly. “Fuck the dispensary!” He said, as his hands formed into fists in his Rocky Victory pose. He was doing it! He was standing on his living legs! He was really- “I wanna hear about this death thing and...jesus, bad idea.”

His knees buckled, and he landed roughly against the springy cushions of the couch. He grimaced, and both Michael and Jeremy were seated soon after, draped on either side of him. Michael ran his hands over his face, as Jeremy lightly caressed his side, Jeremy’s head nuzzling up against his arm. 

“We didn’t...didn’t really almost die,” Jeremy murmured, pressing small kisses to his shoulder. And then laughing, stunned. “I can’t...c-can’t believe how real you feel.”

“Yeah,” Michael said.

Rich had nearly forgotten that they’d never fully touched before. That this was all novel. But his skin remembered, each bit of contact electric, drilling into his bones, into his nerves. 

Tears sprung to his eyes, sudden and sharp and Rich’s throat quivered with the sudden lump filling it. He hadn’t been touched in so long. And, more importantly, he hadn’t been touched kindly since...god, since ages before the fire. He could still remember his last touches of life, the blunt force trauma and mocking laughter. The way his skin had prickled and promised bruises he wouldn’t live long enough to experience.

This was different, though. Michael ran his thumb over his jawline, and Jeremy squeezed his torso, and Rich hated the dry sob that escaped him, especially with the way it made both boys stiffen.

“Sorry,” He jerked his head to the side, out of Michael’s grip, and began to carefully peel Jeremy’s fingers away from their decorative drape over his waist. It was too much. “I just…”

“...it’s been awhile,” Jeremy said slowly. He and Michael exchanged glances, their stupid impossible bond of silent comprehension. He sat up, cupping Rich’s cheek. Rich started to pull back. “It’s okay. I...um.”

“This is a lot.” Rich laughed, and felt a couple tears loosen from his lower eyelid. The tears coursed and burned his cheeks, and it felt nice, he supposed. It felt nice to be able to cry again. To feel a sense of mourning and stunned tenderness and overstimulated emotions.

But it also felt pathetic. To finally have a full body, and to find himself weeping already. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been exposed in other ways to Michael and Jeremy. But they’d never seen him like this, in full technicolor life, with full brilliant breakdown tears.

“Tell me what happened,” He finally managed to say, even as Michael was drying his eyes before he had a chance to touch them himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away from the touch, or bury himself endlessly in it.

Neither seemed willing to break contact yet either way.

Even as they began to drift into their story. World of Warcraft research, anal meshes, 7/11 heists (“he’s a powerful wizard but works parttime as a clerk?” “That’s what I thought too!” Jeremy exclaimed), sigils and incantations, full moon blackouts, and next morning cumshots. 

And this. Rich with a new body, and a fully functioning heart, and-

“This is real?”

“Yeah.” Michael said.

Rich quivered, staring once more at his hands. Why did he keep falling back to his hands every time, so fascinated by their craftsmanship that he thought he might weep again. And, he realized disdainfully, he was crying again, hot wet tears coursing more completely down his flushed face. “I’m really not….I’m really alive again?”

“Really alive.”

“For real?”

Jeremy rubbed his hand over his kneecap. “For real.”

“This is fucking sick, dude. Are you shitting me?” Rich clenched his hands again, his head falling back with a delighted peel of laughter. “Dude. DUDE. This is...holy shit. So I’m not a fucking Casper freako anymore?”

“Still a freako,” Michael countered. “Just not the Casper variety.”

“Oh man. God. Fuck, man. You guys really did this for me?” He looked between them, taking in Michael’s doe eyes, Jeremy’s bowtie lips, and tried to piece it all together. “Why?”

Once again, they shared one of their little glances. Jeremy started to smile, as Michael snickered.

“Why?” Michael repeated.

“I can’t believe he just...he just asked...can’t b-believe he asked us why.”

“Right?”

“What an-”

“What an idiot!”

“Michael,” Jeremy chided softly.

“What?” Michael laughed, wheezing slightly with the action, backtracking as he looked towards Rich. “Our idiot.”

“H-he’s not an idiot, he’s just a fool.”

“How is that any better?” Rich mused. And was wholly unsurprised when they ignored him.

Jeremy leaned in, until his breath was dusting against Rich’s neck. HIs finger circled against his stomach carefully. “He really doesn’t, um, get it,” He said to Michael.

Michael straddled one of Rich’s thighs. The pressure of his body heat against Rich’s leg drew a surprised gasp from him. Oh. He could feel every twist and bend of MIchael’s body, could feel the distinctive bulge of his crotch against him.

He shivered, and felt his fingers tighten against the fabric of the couch. Jeremy’s lips touched against his neck, just barely.

“Because we l...we love you,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah.” Michael said, pressing his thumb against the bottom of Rich’s chin. He turned him towards him, their gazes locking. Michael licked his lips, and Rich nearly whined with how much he wished it were his tongue trailing that succulent mouth. “Idiot.”

“Stop calling me an idiot,” Rich tried to protest forcefully. It came out as a whimper instead. “Fuck. Did you guys just bring me alive for fucktimes and jizzery? Smooth Jizz if you will? Because, like, I’m okay with being objectified, if that’s the case, bros.”

Jeremy and Michael continued exchanging glances. Rich huffed, and glowed, and shivered, as Jeremy began to rub his inner thigh.

“Do you...d-do you want that?”

Michael squeezed his legs around Rich’s other thigh. “Yeah,” He said. “D you want us to, um, do that?”

They were both so stumbling, shaky, unsteady. Rich beamed, grabbing Jeremy by the base of his neck. He tugged him close, nearly bashing their lips together. 

Jeremy tasted soft. Fresh, fallen snow, melting coolly against his tongue. He hadn’t been kissed in so long, though naturally they’d tried before. Rich had slotted his translucent lips against Jeremy’s, falling through him in a flurry of ghoulish limbs and intense deathly chill. Jeremy had felt so warm in that moment, but not the same warm that came with a lover’s true embrace.

It didn’t compare to this, the heat and solidity of Jeremy’s body, his quivering lips and soft breaths.

Rich grabbed one of Jeremy’s hands, as he bit his bottom lip. He eased his touch upward, until he was placing his palm against his chest.

...he’d need a binder, he realized all too suddenly. He’d been able to naturally compress his form as a ghost. Not completely flat, but more composed. His chest almost felt ungainly now, and certainly more pronounced than he’d like.

Still, he pressed Jeremy’s hand against himself, and shivered as his grip tensed against his breast. Both boys gasped softly against each other’s mouths.

Rich drew his mouth away from Jeremy’s. “C’mere,” he panted, beckoning with one finger towards Michael.

Michael leaned up into his mouth, and his lips were sharp, a cinnamon tang to his taste. Spicy and playful, his tongue quickly darting over Rich’s mouth. Rich groaned, Jeremy tweaking his nipple through his shirt. 

Michael cupped Rich’s face, deepening their kiss, all tongue and teeth. He sucked on Rich’s tongue, as his other hand slid between his legs. He palmed him over his jeans.

Rich collapsed back against the couch. The movement separated him from Michael’s mouth. He whimpered, face flushed, as he looked between both of his lovers.

“I wanna do so much,” He moaned. “Wanna experience everything. But, uh, right now, can we totally screw?”

Jeremy and Michael smiled at each other, before replying in tandem.

“Totally.”

Rich prepared to settle back against the couch. But Michael slipped his hands under his arms, hoisting him up. Michael grunted, as he cradled Rich bridal-style. “You’re heavy.”

“Gee,” Rich drawled. “Thanks.” His attempt at offense quickly gave way to a small laugh. “Yeah, I’m a girthy bitch.”

Michael’s lips twitched. “Stop. I’ll drop you.”

“It’s true,” Jeremy said. “He drops me all the time.”

“You act like he carries you all the time.”

“W-well, you know. If he did. He’s a creamp...creampuff. He’d drop me.”

“You weigh like one pound, Queere. Big talk from you.”

Michael struggled with Rich’s weight, staggering down a hallway littered with shattered pictures and decor. The bedroom door had a large crack down the paneling.

Rich winced. “Sorry everything got wrecked because of me.”

“Shitty spell,” Michael wheezed, kicking open the door. “Not your fault.”

The room itself seemed largely untouched by the mess of the rest of the house, aside from the clutter of two gamers sharing a space. A few bottles of rereleased Crystal Pepsi wobbled against the ground, and Jeremy clicked his tongue slightly, disapproving, and Rich caught the way Michael rolled his eyes.

Or maybe it was just a quick flutter of pain from trying to sustain Rich’s weight. Because soon enough, Rich’s world fluttered precariously, and he was airborne. He windmilled his arms, as he clattered backwards onto the mattress.

“Michael!” Jeremy said sharply. “Don’t...you can’t throw him!”

“He was heavy.”

“You...you could have really hurt him!”

Rich pulled himself back towards the pillows, lounging against the multitudes of plush comfort and watching the two argue about the merits of tossing his newly structured body about.

“He’s fine-”

“What if he’d...what if he’d hit the wall or something? You could have given him a concussion!”

“Oh please. He’s incredibly solid, Jer, trust me. I would know. I just had to practically marathon run him in here.”

“It was twenty feet, you drama queen.”

“I didn’t see you carrying him.”

“Well,” Jeremy paused, his frown growing. “...well. I would have.”

“I could’ve crawled,” Rich cut in. “Like, real army crawl style. That would’ve been fucking dope, dude.”

“Not really.”

“Yeah really! All GI Joe Commando or whatever. Man. You think I’m gonna be crippled up forever, though?” Rich fiddled with the fringe of one of the pillow cases. “I’ll deal with it if I have to, but I mean, like-”

“No, you’re just...um,” Jeremy verbally flailed, clearly uncertain how to reassure in that moment.

MIchael took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re just used to floating,” He said, rubbing his palm against Rich’s knee. “You can obviously still move everything, it’s just a lot of weight to get used to.”

“Dude. This is like, your second implication that I’m a huge fatass. Something you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.” Michael said. “You’re a huge fatass.”

Rich’s lips split into a lopsided grin. “Yeah, that sounds fair. And this fatass is hungry.”

“Do you want me to make-”

Rich cut Jeremy off, because his joke setup demanded it. “Hungry for some DICK.”

Jeremy laughed, and Michael scoffed, which was almost as good as a laugh, at least in so far as validating Rich’s stance as a somewhat humorous figure. He tried to sit up, but found himself limply resting back against the pillows.

“I’m just...hold up, I’m just really dizzy. I...yo, nice,” he panted as Jeremy began pushing his shirt up. Jeremy paused, grabbing Rich’s hands and pushing them up above his head, before he grasped the bottom hem of the t-shirt. He peeled it upward, dragging it off of Rich’s torso. Rich managed to lift his head, enough to fully allow the fabric to loosen from him. His world went dark for a few moments, as the shirt trailed overhead, before it was blissfully separated from him.

Jeremy stared at his chest. Rich’s head spun, as his hands gingerly flopped back down at his sides. 

“Yeah, they’re kinda,” Rich shrugged, “kinda way bigger than they probably looked when I was all ghosty. I don’t...I never got a chance to have any sort of surgery, you know, and I don’t...I need to buy a binder, if this whole body thing is going to keep being a thing, and I just, um, I know I look kind of shitty, I wasn’t expecting to get my brains fucked out, but um you know how it is, bro, you know. Tits, man, what can you say? You kn-”

Jeremy leaned in, kissing him so slowly that time itself seemed to stagnate and halt, just for them. Rich forgot to close his eyes, and the colors of Jeremy’ skin and hair blended about before his double-vision. 

His pulse only jumped further at the feeling of wet heat against his left nipple. He broke the kiss, panting and watching as Michael kissed and licked his nipple, his eyes shyly glancing up.

“Is this okay?”

“Dude. You can suck my tiddies all day, I don’t give a fuck!” Rich needed to real it in. That wasn’t sexy, was it? Clearly not, given the way Michael grinned. “I mean, um, yes. You can...fuck, you guys can do whatever you want to me. I’m pretty defenseless here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Whatever we want?” Michael repeated, his teeth grazing against his nipple in a way that left sparks floating through Rich’s spine. The vibrations traveled, from spine to stomach, from stomach down between his legs, until he was throbbing and burning and squirming. And Michael was sucking on his nipple, as Jeremy had begun kissing his neck.

“Yeah.” Rich stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving with every panted breath. “Whatever you want.”

And whatever they wanted was exactly what they did. 

Rich lifted his hips as his pants were unbuttoned. Every shift of denim against his hips left him more excited, more energized, more giddily nervous, than he was the moment before. Jeremy slipped his pants off first one ankle, then the other, carefully letting them slink down to the ground, before laying against the mattress at Rich’s side.

“You’re r-really...really…” his words were small, stammered, a clear difficulty in peeling them from his vocal chords. 

“Gorgeous,” Michael finally supplied. And Jeremy nodded.

Rich wished he wasn’t blushing. It ruined whatever image he might have had. But it was such a sweet sentiment, and he’d fantasized about this for so terribly long. 

And it was super unfair, he thought, that he was the one being stripped, while both Jeremy and Michael were still fully dressed.

Then again, he remembered, they’d just fooled around in the forest. Maybe they weren’t even in the mood. Or at the very least, they’d been sated enough to drag this out.

Holy shit. They could just keep dragging this out and teasing him endlessly. Rich quivered, as Jeremy traced one finger up and down against his hip, causing the fabric of his underwear to flex and tremble with every touch. He’d gone so many years without any contact at all, and god…

“You know how tired I’ve gotten of touching myself?”

Michael stole a kiss from him, though it was bumpy with his laughter. “Jeremy can’t relate,” he muttered against his lips.

Jeremy frowned, shoving Michael’s shoulder, only to go back to outlining Rich’s body with his finger, along his thigh now rather than merely his hip. 

“What? We know how much you masturbate.”

“It’s true,” Rich said. “I watch you a lot, man. Like. A lot.”

Jeremy mumbled indistinctly under his breath, and Rich’s chest ached with how endeared he was.

Michael’s glasses were crooked against his nose. And Rich’s chest ached once again, because fuck, he was doubletime endeared.

How could they both be so cute?

Michael pressed his hand flush against Rich’s stomach. Pinning him against the bed, unnecessarily considering Rich’s inability to properly move in the first place.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” He said, his smile shy and giddy.

“I’ve been here awhile, bro.”

“No, I know, but...you’re even better than I...you’re just really cute.”

“Cute? You’re going to fuck me, finally, and I’m just cute?? What am I, a girl scout or something?”

Michael tapped their lips together. “What would you prefer?”

“Obviously sexy.”

The mistake made itself apparent only once the word escaped, and Michael’s expression twitched in amusement.

Sexy was a difficult word to get out with a lisp.

“Shut up,” Rich scowled, but Michael was already giggling. “Hey. HEY. It’s not that funny, dickholio.”

“He’s j-just mad he can’t sit with us sp-speech therapy kids at lunch,” Jeremy said, though even he clearly had amusement in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Jealous prick. You’re just lucky I’m a glorified fleshlight right now, or else you’d be getting yours, mister.”

“Real scary stuff.”

Rich bared his teeth, growling with all the aggression he could muster before bursting into laughter.

“I’m scary, dammit.”

Growling at a werewolf was probably among his stupider ideas. Oh well.

Michael chuckled. “Very intimidating.” He ran his hand over his stomach. His thumb twitched over Rich’s belly button.

Rich gasped softly, arching into the contact. Each movement strained his weak frame.

“Oh.” Michael mused. “You’re into that? Really?”

“Shh,” Rich mumbled. “Am not. I’m just breathing.”

Jeremy’s gaze burned into his face. Rich shivered as Jeremy sat up. He pushed MIchael’s hand out of the way, leaning in until his hot breath was weaving against his stomach.

Rich whined. “Guys…”

Except he had no idea what he was going to protest.

Jeremy’s lips pressed against his stomach, grazing teeth and soft lips, sucking at his belly button so naturally that Rich forgot to feel ashamed of his own desperate keening. Rich’s hand twitched with the urge to grasp onto the back of Jeremy’s head. It was too much effort. He gave up, staring starry-eyed at the ceiling as Jeremy rimmed his tongue around his navel.

Michael climbed up the bed, nibbling on Rich’s earlobe. He gripped one of his breasts, rubbing his nipple with the pad of his thumb. “You’re so hot,” Michael breathed against him. Then, nuzzling, he added, “Can I fuck you up the ass?”

Rich’s vision was hazy, pink, and he could hardly comprehend that those words were leaving Michael’s mouth.

“My ass?” He finally repeated.

“Yeah,” He tweaked his nipple. “I’ve wanted it since you started haunting us.”

Rich squirmed as Jeremy nibbled against his lower stomach. He was going to die. This was his fate, to die in a pool of pleasure, drowning in two hot geeks.

Wait. Michael was still waiting on an answer.

“Yeah,” Rich breathed. “Yeah, you can fuck my butt. My ass, I mean. Butt isn’t sexy. I--fuck, don’t laugh at me for lisping “sexy” again.”

Michael smiled against him--Rich could feel the turn of his lips against his skin--but he remained laughter free per Rich’s request. 

Rich tried to remember if he’d ever been fucked anally. Maybe once--no, definitely not. If he had to think about it, that was a hard no, right? He bit his lip, considering whether or not to say anything about his lack of experience. Nah. He didn’t need to-

“You’re totally an anal-virgin, aren’t you?” Michael panted.

“Says who?”

“Your nervous face, that’s who.”

“Nervous my ass!”

“Exactly. Nervous. For your ass.”

“Fuck that. I’m not nervous about nothing.”

Jeremy swirled his tongue into his bellybutton again. Rich sighed, a dreamy little sound, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

“I’ll be gentle,” Michael assured.

“You don’t have to.” He tried not to sound relieved. And he failed.

“Too bad.”

“Is that a-any way to talk to your boyfriend?” Jeremy said. His chin rested against Rich’s stomach, as his hand pressed against the waistband of his underwear.

“It was loving!” Michael insisted.

“Too bad,” Jeremy repeated, trying to match Michael’s cadence. “That’s not...that’s hardly loving.”

Rich tried to think of something to add to the conversation. But Jeremy was strumming the elastic of his boxers like a harp, clipping it against his skin.

Rich hissed, soaking the crotch of his underwear in his helpless arousal. He looked down at Jeremy, as Michael kissed his neck. Jeremy slipped his fingers into the waistband, pressing down lower, lower, until his touch just barely grazed over his cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Rich cooed. “Ohhh...oh fuck. Oh god this is really happening, bro. Really happening. Holy fuck.”

Jeremy used his other hand to begin peeling his underwear off. Rich’s eyes moved to the ceiling, suddenly shy. Like the idea of seeing Jeremy seeing him was too much. He felt his body spring free, boxers bundling around his thighs, constricting, before Jeremy pushed them lower, lower, down to his ankles. He slid first one food, then the second, out, and just like that Rich was completely-

“Holy fuck.”

Completely naked. Just like that. Rich chanced a small glance down at himself. “Holy fuck.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d seen him undressed, of course. He’d stripped down often while they’d screwed, floated naked and horny, his ghostly hands going to work on himself.

But they’d never seen him naked and alive.

Rich looked between them. Both gawked at him, looks of awe and wonder on their faces. Rich’s knees touched inward nervously.

“Um.” He swallowed. “Is, uh, is it okay?”

“What?” Jeremy asked.

“Like, my body, dude.” Rich shivered. “Is it okay? Like, you know, stroke my ego or at least tell me I’m moderately cute or something. I-”

Michael grasped his chin, drawing his face towards him. Lips smacked, and Michael’s tongue brushed into his mouth slowly. His hands dropped, grabbing Rich’s shoulders and forcibly pulling him up. Rich slumped forward, leaning against Michael’s chest as they kissed.

Jeremy pushed his legs apart, settling down between his thighs.

Michael broke the kiss, cradling Rich’s close. Rich panted, as though the effort had exhausted him. He looked at Michael, then down at Jeremy, who was shamelessly staring at his cunt.

“You’re g...you’re gorgeous, Rich,” Jeremy stammered. “It’s just...it’s hard to talk right now.”

“I was just razzing your berries, Dr. Fucko,” Rich said gently. “I don’t need an ego jerkoff. But I wouldn’t turn down a standard real jerkoff, if you know what I mean.”

Jeremy slipped his hand up Rich’s thigh, until he was stroking his cunt, thumb moving over soft, wet lips. Rich’s head spun, as he pressed him open. The pressure left him breathless. Jeremy pulled him open with one hand, staring at the slickened pink of his body with nothing short of reverence. Jeremy’s mouth opened as though to speak, but words evaded him. He trembled, brushing a finger over his clit with grace. Like he was reading a braille prayer.

Rich couldn’t even buck into his touch, so completely frail. Michael kept the upper half of his body cradled, and everything swirled in technicolor wonder. Jeremy circled his finger over his clit, and sparks danced in front of his eyes.

Rich’s mouth was slick with drool, which had begun to soak into Michael’s inside out hoodie.

“Sorry,” he said, in the same moment that Michael said, “Cute.”

They stared at each other, a stalemate of intentions, before both laughed, breathy and giddy.

Jeremy strummed his clit expertly, and Rich’s weak legs jerked and flopped helplessly. Everything came back around to that adverb, didn’t it? Helplessly. Absolutely pathetic and helpless and--he could feel Jeremy’s breath between his legs.

Rich sucked in a sharp breath, as Jeremy slipped his tongue over his clit. He licked him with a slow pressure, building up as he swirled his tongue. 

“Ohh my god, Queere. Holy fuck,” Rich flopped against Michael’s chest. “Oh my god oh my god.”

“Feels good?” Michael asked. He grasped Rich’s hand, placing it against his cock. He could feel the tenting of his jeans from his erection. Rich’s fingers twitched and he moaned his appreciation.

“Yes,” He shivered. Jeremy’s lips wrapped around his clit. The sound he made as he sucked upon it was obscene, almost a messy sort of sound. Rich sighed, smiling deliriously as Jeremy slid one finger around his cunt, pressing against him without yet entering him. The exploration was pulse-pounding and Rich’s ears felt fuzzy and closed off, almost as though he were about to pass out.

Jeremy moved, until he was laying over one of Rich’s legs. He rubbed against him, grinding his cock against Rich’s leg. Rich could hardly believe his luck. Two hard cocks, all for him.

Jeremy ran his tongue flat over his clit. His first knuckle pressed inward, more of a promise of what would come than anything else.

Michael clasped his shoulders, drawing him off his chest and gently easing him back down onto the bed. Rich’s hair fanned out on the pillow. He blinked up at Michael, who was toying with his nipples once more.

“Is it hard, waiting?”

Michael snorted. “It’s hard alright.”

Rich wanted to roll his eyes. But he laughed instead. “Gay.”

“I mean, in case you forgot, I do have two boyfriends. Pretty homo of me.”

“Gay dog boy. Hey, are you gonna be taking me doggy-style, wolfman?”

Jeremy laughed, the sound reverberating against his clit in the process. Rich squeaked slightly, the change in pressure shooting thrills through his body.

“Maybe,” Michael mused. “But if you keep talking back, maybe we’ll just leave you unfucked and needy instead.”

“No fair. I’m too weak. I can’t even rub one out right now. That’s some cruel and unusual torture shit right there.”

“Well, you’re being a brat.”

“Yeah, well--ohhhh…”

Jeremy guided his finger inside him. His digits were long, slender, so different from Rich’s own touch. He tried to say something, but Jeremy curled his finger and stole his breath.

Michael leaned in, kissing between his breasts. Rich wondered if he could feel his heartbeat.

“You’re so handsome,” Michael said. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Naked?”

“Yeah,” Michael kissed a line to his left breast. His breath painted over his nipple. “Naked.” He took the pink bud between his lips. “And warm.” He nibbled faintly against it. “And alive.”

Alive.

Rich’s mind reeled over the possibilities. The reality of it all. Alive. To carry out the rest of his lifespan, not as a spectre floating over his lovers’ bed, but as an active participant.

“And to think I was just going to poltergeist up this bitch in the beginning,” He slurred, as Jeremy began to stroke his finger within him, prodding and pressing in all hte ways that made Rich’s legs twitch involuntarily.

“I like this better,” Jeremy muttered, then began lapping at him again. As though he was totally delicious, mouth watering. He drew his finger out, only to replace it with his tongue, thrusting it inside of him.

“Ohhh god oh GOD!”

Rich felt like a cliche. A stereotype of being well pleased. They were teasing him so slow, and his body was so new, so receptive. He gasped, and Michael lifted his head, to kiss him instead. 

Jeremy nuzzled against him, dipping his tongue deeper and more insistently within him. Rich’s cunt throbbed, his blood rushing downward, entire world fixated on his core. 

And just like that, his insides were frantic, buzzing, and his tes were wound tight. “Ohh...oh fuck, fuck, I’m-”

His world was icy and brilliant and he had to close his eyes against the explosive onslaught of absolute, total pleasure. Rich’s head flopped against the pillow, as Michael bit his neck. He constricted around Jeremy’s tongue, could feel the way his orgasm slickened his face. He cried pitifully, soul torn from his new body. And he stared down at the scene, watched himself, before he finally drifted back down into his own body.

Gasping for breath, he felt Jeremy withdrawn his tongue, and watched as he wiped his chin on the back of his arm. A casual swipe, with a gleam of playful amusement in his eyes. 

“Holy shitoli,” Rich whined. Jeremy rubbed the outer lips of his cunt, slick and red and hypersensitive, and he whimpered. “Holy fuckerino. Jesus Christito.”

Jeremy smiled. And Rich blushed. “It was good,” he added, soft and withdrawn. He closed his eyes, and Michael grabbed his wrists.

“We should suspend him,” Michael spoke frankly.

Rich wasn’t certain he’d heard him correctly, still so caught up in his own orgasm. “What, like I was bad in school and need to be punished or something?” he finally asked.

They ignored him. Jeremy looked at Michael uneasily.

“He’s so weak.”

“Hey! I’m not-”

“I-I just don’t think the strain is a good idea.”

“I think it’ll be better than trying to get him on his knees the whole time.”

Rich listened in bewilderment.

“I don’t...don’t want to overwhelm him, Michael.”

“I live to be overwhelmed,” Rich chirped.

Those words must have been the right response, because both snapped into action.

Jeremy stood on the bed, reaching up to the ceiling. Rich looked up, and watched as Jeremy loosened a length of rope from a hook.

Suspended.

Ohhhh. 

Okay, that made sense.

Rich smirked, endeared that this was clearly somethign they played around with often enough to make a permanent staple of the ceiling. Michael pulled on his wrists, Rich’s ragdoll body flopping upright. He moaned softly, as Michael stood, pulling on Rich’s arms until Jeremy was able to begin binding his wrists. 

“Damn, Queere, were you a boyscout or something? Excellent knotwork my...haha, of course you know how to knot, you sick doggy boy, you.”

Jeremy offered him a lopsided smile, but no words, as he finished binding his wrists together. They hoisted with the rope, until Rich’s body was pulled straight, toes grazing against the bed. It couldn’t quite be called standing, though. His entire weight was suspended by the rope.

His arms were already beginning to ache. It was a nice ache though--at least for now.

He felt more exposed like this. Strung up and swaying. Michael rubbed his shoulders from behind and Rich laughed.

“I feel like a boxer going into the ring or something.” He giggled. “The ring of COCKS, that is.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy said, laughing a little as though despite himself.

Michael drew his hand back, swiftly swatting Rich’s ass. Rich swayed forward, straining against the rope.

“Hey!” Rich protested. “Careful with the goods, bro.”

All that did was earn him another spank. Rich tried to scowl, but judging by Jeremy’s expression, he was melting instead, absolutely bubbling with pleasure.

“This is fuckin lit, bro,” Rich said. “Holy fuck.”

“Lit??”

“Yeah, probably not the right word, not the right context. I’m horny as fuck, yo, cut me some slack.”

Michael rubbed his clothed dick against Rich’s ass. It felt impossibly huge.

“At least you’ve cum once,” Michael panted against his ear. “Feel this. Look how desperate I am.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

Another spanking for his sass. Rich groaned, arching forward to try to kiss Jeremy, but Jeremy scooted away.

Tease.

Michael’s movements jostled the bed. Rich tried to turn to look at him, but Jeremy took his chin between thumb and index finger. The eye contact was intense, and Rich had to look away, swallowing nervously.

Why was he so nervous? This was what he wanted!

More than what he wanted. He was alive again! Actually alive!

Jeremy released his chin, gently petting his cheek. His thumb brushed over Rich’s lips. His mouth parted, taking it in and gently sucking on it. Their eyes locked, and this time it was Jeremy who looked away, face flushed, breathing shaky.

Michael returned to his place behind Rich. He pressed against Rich’s lower back, arching him in the process. 

“What’re you-”

“Don’t worry about him,” Jeremy said softly. “Just look at me.”

“Hey!” Michael protested. Rich heard a cap pop open, and his mouth instinctively watered. What the hell kind of pavlov respnse was that to lube?

He tried to spread his legs, but even that proved too much effort for his weak muscles. His fingers fluttered in an attempt to clench up and he swayed from the rope.

“Hey what?” Jeremy asked.

“He can pay attention to me too, jackass.”

“I...you really called me a jackass while we’re...this is a beautiful moment, Michael, and you’re being...you’re disrespectful.”

Michael moved out from behind Rich. He grabbed Jeremy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’ll show you real disrespect, Jer.”

Rich watched as they kissed, the way their lips danced together, the quick flashes of tongue as they moved into each other. Rich ached to touch them, to feel them, to embrace and experience. It was similar in a lot of ways to watching before, except-

Jeremy blindly reached out, coiling his arm around Rich’s waist. He tugged against him, trying to draw him nearer. Michael broke their kiss, glancing at Rich and giving his nipple a small pinch.

“You’re a real titty man, aren’t you?” Rich said once the shivers faded.

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “Yours are just...you have an amazing body.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah. Very cool.”

He moved back behind him, and Rich heard him squirt a palmful of lube into his hand. He tried not to childishly laugh.

Tried.

He deserved points for the trying, right?”

Of course, laughter quickly tapered off as Michael pressed on his back again, forcing his back into a bow, and his ass more prominently posed. His eyes widened as Michael spread him, and as his finger began to brush against his-

“Yo! You’re totally touching my asshole. What the FUCK?”

Michael froze. “I...I-I thought-”

Rich shook his head. “Sorry, I mean, no, it’s not bad, I just...yo. Your hand is on...your finger’s on my b-hole, it’s just kinda weird, that’s all.”

“Y-you’re really good at this whole dirty talk thing, aren’t you?” Jeremy snorted.

Rich shot him a grin, though he could already feel sweat began to dot his forehead. Nerves, maybe, or excitement. “Yeah, the dirtiest. Stroke my anus, Michael Mell.”

“Why my full name?”

“Why anus?” Jeremy countered

Rich chose not to dignify either with a response.

Because obviously he was a being full of dignity. Obviously.

Whatever the case, whatever the phraseology, Michael moved his finger over him, circling it and pressing until Rich’s breath was coming out choppy and unsteady.

Jeremy shrugged off his cardigan, letting it slide off his back and off the bed. Rich’s focus zeroed in on him, as he slipped his shirt off overhead.

Jeremy’s chest and shoulders were scratched, bruised, sharp bite marks dancing over his skin. His eyes peeked at him through heavy eyelashes, and he bit his lip. “It...i-it was an eventful full moon.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Michael pressed his finger into him, until it sank in up to his second knuckle. Rich tried to press back against him, but couldn’t get his toes to touch down enough for purchase, and wouldn’t have been able to manage the momentum anyway with his current state of being. 

“Y-you should come with us some time..” He trailed off, shaking his head almost as quickly as the thought had come. “...no, it’s too d...like, um. It’s too dangerous,” Jeremy unbuttoned his pants. “But, uh, yeah.”

“Damn. It’d be pretty hot though, getting plowed while you guys are all Monster Mashing or what the fuck ever.”

“M-monster mashing?”

“Yeah!” Rich exhaled shakily as Michael pressed his finger in completely.

God that felt…

That felt…

“That’s fucking weird, man.”

Michael beckoned with his finger for a moment, before drawing it back. “Bad weird?” He asked, then thrust it back in. “Or good weird?”

“Good weird.” Rich licked his lips, as Jeremy slipped his hand into his own pants. Fuck. “Jesus, really good weird. You seeing Queere right now? Holy fuck.”

“Let me guess. He’s touching himself again. Big surprise.”

“F-fuck you,” Jeremy said. “I was just adjusting my-myself.”

Rich didn’t want to laugh. But what the hell kind of excuse was that?

“Babe,” He said. “Babe, it’s fucking hot. Whip that fucker out. I wanna see you stroking it. Come on.”

“Yeah, Jer. Release the python.”

Rich giggled. “Yeah. Petting zoo at the reptile house. Let it out.”

“You two are…” He trailed off, as though in search for the perfect word to describe either of them. Failing that, he instead began to shimmy his pants down his thighs.

And Michael began to probe him with his second finger, wet with lube and burning with body heat. 

“Ridiculous?” Rich finally supplied. Michael’s other hand squeezed his ass, giving it a small hit just to watch the way his body quivered under the contact. “What was that for? I didn’t do anything bratty!”

“You’re a brat. Everything you do is bratty.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.”

Rich blinked. And it was hard, hard to concentrate while Jeremy was stripping off his pants, and Michael had two fingers inside him, but he was pretty sure he’d just heard him say-

“Kiddo?” He repeated.

“I think you heard me,” Michael’s voice quavered all the same, and Rich looked at Jeremy to try to see if he’d sensed what an odd turn of phrase it was.

Jeremy shrugged, and finally finished kicking off his jeans. His briefs clung to his hips, his legs curved and bruised and begging to be touched. Rich tugged at the rope around his wrists. No give--probably for the best, he supposed, since it was all that was holding him upright in that moment. All the same, it was such a tease, to be so close but to be unable to caress or bite or grope.

Michael stretched his fingers within Rich’s body. His lips pressed against the back of his neck. Rich had to close his eyes, to indulge in the sensation of it. Michael wrapped an arm around him, hand pressed flush against his stomach, as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of him. Steadily fucking him, and Rich’s body ached with the intensity, but god was it ever an ache that he needed. Much like the feeling of lethargy and pain building in his arms, from the way he was tied up.

It was all just so much better than he’d ever imagined it could be. Eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes again, as he watched as Jeremy slipped his hand into his briefs, touching himself within the tight confines of his underwear.

“Fuck.” He stared openly. Michael drew his fingers out completely, an empty, needy sort of feeling, though he could hear him applying more lubricant to his touch. His fingers entered him once more, and Rich panted. “Fuck. You two are in trouble once I’m able to move again. God….fuck, Jeremy, come on, whip it out, I want to see your dick. Please? I want to see it. You guys are in so much trouble. I’m gonna fuck you both so good when I can move again. Please! Please let me see it?”

Jeremy kept one hand in his briefs, his other slipping his thumb into the waistband. He pulled down at an angle, crookedly shimmying down flimsy fabric. 

His cock sprang free obscenely, and Jeremy’s entire body seemed to blush as he was exposed. 

“Holy fuck,” Rich drooled on himself. LIterally, quite fucking literally, drooled on himself. Like some sort of shameless animal.

Except he was faull of all kinds of shame. Especially because he couldn’t wipe it away.

“Sorry,” He tried to laugh it off, but it came out croaked, tight. Michael rotated his fingers within him. He squeaked. “Sorry, I just, you know, you’re hot, Queere. You’re crazy hot.”

“O-oh, Jesus.” Jeremy glowed crimson, and somehow still managed to peel his briefs down to his kneecaps, though with the way he was kneeling, he didn’t bother pulling them down any further.

It was enough--and truly, with the way Jeremy was positioned, it was hot in its own way, body fully displayed, one modest bit of cloth remaining but bunched obscenely at his thighs. Jeremy caressed his own cock, from base to tip, one slow stroke as though to brandish and display it, to show off every glorious inch.

“He’s so stupidly hot,” Michael mumbled against Rich’s neck.

“I know, right?”

“I bet you want him inside you.”

“I bet I want you naked already,” Rich countered. He could hardly bring himself to look away from Jeremy, but he needed to regard Michael. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time to watch the way Michael squirmed uncertainly.

Michael’s fingers twitched inside him.

“I will.”

“When?”

“I’m sort of busy, dude.”

“Busy my ass.”

“Exactly.”

“You made that joke already.”

“You’re just so easy.”

Rich scoffed. “Hey. I’ve waited for months and months. Easy? Please.”

“Y...you have only been alive for a few minutes,” Jeremy said softly. “And-”

“I was alive for awhile! It’s not my fault you two were busy frolicking. With your dicks.”

“...well, either way, it...i-it didn’t take you long to want to, um, fuck.”

“Hey! You two seduced me! It’s not my fault.”

“Nothing is ever your fault,” Michael quipped. “Maybe have some accountability for once, Goranski.”

“Maybe get back to fingering my asshole, Mell.”

Michael bit his shoulder, chasing it with a soft kiss as though worried he may have hurt him terribly. “Whatever you-”

“But I want you naked in the next ten minutes or so help me.”

Michael smiled against his shoulder. His fingers pressed deeper into him, curling against him. Rich tensed around him, and he couldn’t help but think how counterintuitive that was. He was supposed to be loosening up. And god. God, it felt good. He was dripping, and it was such a dizzying sensation that he couldn’t even find shame for that fact. But all the same, if he was already this tense with just fingers, how the hell was he going to take his cock?

Jeremy smoothed his hands through Rich’s hair. “I didn’t think I could...could fit him the first time either.”

“Huh?”

“You’re, uh, you look worried. And, um, probably about him fitting, right?”

Rich blinked. He chose not to answer. It seemed too embarrassing, he decided, to confess to any uneasiness and anxiety about getting a good dicking.

“I thought...thought it’d be too much too. But-”

“Aw Queere. Shut your cute-ass mouth and kiss me, okay?”

“O-oh! Um, yeah! I can do that!”

Rich could taste himself on Jeremy’s lips. He sucked on Jeremy’s lip, touching as much as he could with his mouth alone, when his hands were indisposed as they were. He wanted to experience it all. Wanted to feel alive.

Jeremy ran his hands over Rich’s hips, sliding up higher to caress his waist, then his breasts. Rich pulled back, a small laugh on his lips.

“What is with you two and my tits? Seriously?”

“I...they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah, you have...y-you have really pink nipples.”

“What?”

“He said you have really pink nips.” Michael drew his fingers out, and before Rich could even react, he had three in him. Bunched together, moving in unison, but the girth of them was almost overwhelming. 

What was he thinking about? Something about pink?

“Huh?”

“Your tits are really pink,” Michael said casually.

“Pink?” Michael kissed along his spine, and Rich tried to remember what the word even meant. Pink. Pink. 

The color.

Right!

“Oh! Uh, thanks for the color recognition, bros.”

Michael moved his fingers within him, the tension sharp and dangerous and Jeremy scooted closer, still caressing his chest. Rich looked at him, absolutely starved, and once more jerked at the rope instinctively. 

They better not have intended to leave him up there permanently. He wasn’t some pinata display. ...of course they weren’t going to leave him up there permanently, what an asinine thought to have. Rich ground his teeth together, and then squeaked as the tip of Jeremy’s cock pressed against his cunt.

Jeremy seemed just as surprised, looking down with wide eyes. “O-oh.”

“It’s like a fucking magnet. A pussy magnet, if you will.”

“Dumb.”

“Up yours, Queere! That was gold!”

“Actually,” Michael said. “Up yours, Rich. Literally.” He flexed his fingers to make his point. 

“Yeah,” Rich conceded. “Yeah, that’s valid. Real and straight.”

“Huh?”

“Instead of fake and gay.”

“There’s nothing straight about any of this.”

“Mikey, I swear, shut your fucking gob, bro. Did I ask you? No.”

“Well, you keep running your mouth. I figured I’d set the record stra--gay.”

“That was forced and you know it.”

Jeremy seemed discontented with the turn of the conversation. He grasped himself, nimble fingers around his cock, as he moved forward, gliding the head of his dick against Rich. 

This time, there was nothing accidental or startled about Jeremy’s expression. He looked at him expectantly, and Rich’s mouth went dry under the intensity of his stare.

“Yo,” Rich said softly. “You’re both going to be fucking me at the same time, aren’t you?”

How had he not figured that out yet?

Jeremy nodded, and Michael turned his knuckles within him until Rich was nearly yelping. A nice sort of yelp, though, if that was possible. Like the review site. 4 out of 5 yelps.

Rich had never been on Yelp. Was that how they measured their reviews? A metric system of yelping?

And more importantly: who gave a shit about that at a time like this?

Rich wanted more than anything to grab onto Jeremy’s shoulders. His legs twitched, but were unwilling to move enough to wrap around his waist. Jeremy rubbed against him once more, this time pressing forward enough to press just slightly between his lips, though not enough, not centered properly, to actually enter him fully. Rich’s clit pulsed so desperately he was certain each throb must have been pathetically visible.

“Bro. Bro, I think...fuck, I think I can’t wait anymore.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” Michael said in a sing-song voice. He was clearly enjoying this rush of power more than he’d expected. Rich found it endearing, and slightly annoying.

Mostly endearing though.

Okay, almost entirely endearing. The annoying part was the lactic acid buildup in his arms leaving him aching in a less than sexy way. The reminder of his own defenselessness was nice and all, but he’d just gotten a brand new body, and they were already wearing it out.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Come on. Don’t you want to stick it to me already?”

“Hmm...I’m good.”

“And you’re still dressed too. This is totally gay, bro! Get your pants off and put your dick in my ass now, or I swear-”

“Like I said, you don’t really have a choice,” His words trilled. “In fact-”

“F-for fuck sake, Micah,” Jeremy gasped. “I w-want to fuck him. Can you hurry up already?”

“...you don’t get to call me by a cute nickname and then cuss me out, Jer. That’s so unfair.” Michael’s pout could be heard in his voice. Rich met Jeremy’s gaze and both smiled, too breathless for full laughter, but the amusement was present in the air around them.

Rich swayed back and forth slightly. Time to really lay on the charm. “Please fuck me, senpai?”

...okay.

Apparently the air wasn’t too thick for laughter.

Because Michael was wheezing.

“What...was that supposed to be sexy?”

“I took a gamble! I wasn’t sure if you were a daddy fan or not. I chose wrong.”

Jeremy had nearly doubled over in his own laughter. Rich’s cheeks puffed out in annoyance.

Sure, it was meant to be mildly amusing, but he hadn’t wanted to be a fucking laughingstock.

“It’s not that funny, assclowns!”

“It’s pretty funny,” Michael said. He pulled his fingers back, carefully separating them from Rich. The loss left him quivering, empty and desperate. 

“Well, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take or whatever. Fuckers. Come on. Put a dick in me. Or two. Fill me with cocks. I want to get nailed already!”

“Well-”

“But more importantly, I want to see Michael fucking naked, y’all.”

“Y...y’yall?” 

“You’re questioning the word choices of the weeb ghost, Jer?”

“Good point.”

“Not a good point!” Rich snapped. “Just take your fucking clothes off, dumbass.”

That was too harsh.

“I mean babe,” he adjusted.

Shit. Why was he being so quiet? Had he been too harsh? But he’d thrown in a babe!

“I’m sorry I called you a dumbass,” He said. “You’re not. You’re, like, you have glasses, so obviously you’re smart. But I just, uh...why aren’t you talking?”

“Zipper’s stuck.”

“Here,” Jeremy said. “Let me help.”

Rich could do nothing but watch as Jeremy moved away from his frontward facing view, to the space behind him that Michael occupied. He could hear cloth rustling, zippers uncoil, and as much as he tried to look behind him, he couldn’t see anything enticing. No nipples. No asscheeks. Not even an elbow. What the fuck? This wasn’t right at all! He’d died for this? What a total let down!

“You could have at least gotten in front of me. You’re the ones who tied me up, and then you hide out when all I want was to see a little boy skin? Rude as fuck, bros. Totally uncalled for.”

“Oh relax.” The bedsprings creaked and Michael crawled around.

Completely undressed. 

Totally naked.

Oh fuck yes.

Michael’s face was flushed pink, a contrast to the dark tone of his skin. He rubbed one of his arms, avoiding eye contact. Rich looked over his body, as though it were the first time, taking in the roundness of his stomach, the softness of his thighs, the unsteady way his shoulders hunched as though permanently painted with shame.

The way the tip of his cock was shiny and slick with precum.

“Holy fuck.” Rich said softly. “Look at you both. Couple of Victoria’s secrets models or something!”

Michael creased his nose in disgust. “What.” It was a flat what, a lack of question mark.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t think of...Chippendales? Those are sexy guys, right? Yeah, with their little bow ties. A couple of Chippendales.”

“I’d rather b...I’d rather be a Victoria’s Secrets model,” Jeremy admitted sheepishly. He’d moved in front of Rich as well, sitting crosslegged on the bed.

“That’s the spirit!”

Spirit. Like ghosts. Nice. That was a good, unintended pun.

That had no place anymore, now that Rich was the most normal, ordinary, and human out of the three of them. He looked between them, and felt a sense of warmth and peace wash over him.

And a wet desperation between his thighs. Right. They needed to get that taken care of pronto. 

Michael tilted Rich's head towards him, kissing the corner of his mouth sensually. He stroked his thumb over his cheekbone. "Do you think you're ready?"

"Fuck yeah I'm ready," He spoke full of eagerness and bravado. His eyes moved downward, taking in the curve of Michael's cock, and felt the phantom of sensation over his ass as he imagined how it might feel filling him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm real sure, bro. Take my ass and make it your bitch."

"And the rest of you too."

He kissed Rich before he could say anything in response, then slid back behind him. His hands rubbed his shoulders, then his back, before finally clasping against his ass. He squeezed it, massaged it, and Rich made some inhumanly whining sounds that made Jeremy's eyes dance with amused delight.

Jeremy pulled himself onto his knees. His hands pressed to Rich's hips, as he leaned forward. He kissed his neck, then his collarbone, then his breast. His teeth grazed over the soft skin, and Rich's head fell back with a low moan.

His eyes fluttered open once more as he felt Michael begin to grind his cock over his ass. He circled over him, over lubricant and sweat, and Rich's pulse jumped, and his muscles tightened.

"Relax," Michael purred. "We're going to take good care of you."

Jeremy pulled Rich forward, briefly dislodging him from contact with Michael. Michael scooted nearer, though, returning to his slow teasing circles, as Jeremy began to grind his own cock back and forth over his cunt.

"I can't believe my first act in life is a fucking DPing." Rich felt Jeremy move his leg, wrapping it around his waist. He tried to squeeze it around him, but the action was too much for his muscles. The new position stretched him, and Michael began to press the tip of his cock more insistently against him. "Um, and like, friendly reminder, that I like love you guys, okay?"

Lips pressed to the back of his neck, and to his shoulder. "L...love you too," Jeremy breathed.

And began to press into the tight, wet heat of his cunt.

Rich breathed out a quiet, "oh," as Jeremy kept one hand on his hip, the other catching his breast and toying with his nipple. Michael slid one of his hands over Jeremy's, the one on Rich's hip, and Rich could feel the way their fingers threaded affectionately in the process.

There was a squeeze to his hip, and then Michael was pressing inside of him as well.

It was a bizarre sensation, for lack of a better word, having two cocks entering him from opposite ends. Rich's breath hitched and he was grateful for the binding in that moment. He was certain he wouldn't have known what to do with his hands otherwise.

Jeremy hitched his other leg up, until both were wrapped around his waist. Rich stared at him in stunned silence, Jeremy moving forward until he was fully encased within him.

Michael's own journey was slower. Stilted, halted, by the tight virginity of his body. Rich found a little reserve of strength, a flutter of energy to squeeze his legs around Jeremy, as Michael thrust himself within him.

Just like that, he was filled completely, stuffed by both of his boyfriends, pinned between them like a butterfly display. Rich bit his lip, face so hot he was afraid he'd melt. "F-feels good," He finally said, as Jeremy's concerned eyes fixed on him. 

Because it did. It felt really good. Being so full, being so consumed. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he panted lustfully. They moved out of him together, their fingers tapping secret messages to each other, as they maneuvered over Rich's body.

The next thrust inward earned a cry from Rich. He wanted to press into them, but wasn't sure in which direction to move, or if he even could move. Best to instead dangle from the ceiling and just enjoy it. 

"You're so good," Michael said, biting the side of his neck. "So tight, so sexy. Does it feel good?"

"Yes!" Rich blubbered. "S-so good."

They were moving in and out of him so effortlessly, brilliantly dominating his body as though it were an instrument they'd long ago mastered. Michael slid an arm around him, the one that wasn't pressed to his hip, and began to strum his clit, occasionally reaching down to feel Jeremy's cock move as he slid out of him. Rich's head lulled, tongue nearly flopping out of his mouth as he was well and truly fucked.

They seemed to read him immaculately, knowing when he needed it harder, when he needed it faster, when he wanted more pressure on his clit, when they needed to adjust to hit him in just the right spot. He wondered if they could feel each other through his body, if they might break through him completely with the intensity of their thrusts, and then he found himself unable to think anything at all except for more more more.

Michael finished first, digging his teeth sharply into Rich's shoulder and nearly growling against him as he pressed forward, body shuddering and shaking as he came inside him. Rich wasn't sure why the sensation was such a shock, but the pain of the bite only amplified his own pleasure, left him clenching around both of their cocks and gargling a strangled attempt at moaning one or both of their names.

Michael slumped against his back, the pressure pulling down on the rope around Rich's wrists. He ached, but couldn't complain, trying to issue a compliment, a tone of gratitude.

But for once, Rich couldn't speak at all.

Jeremy's own hips jerked unevenly, his face splotchy and red and adorably focused, as he thrust in and out of Rich's body. Their eyes met, for all of three seconds, before Jeremy's face scrunched up, almost as though pained. He pulled out, unlike Michael, cumming on Rich's stomach and thighs. He seemed shocked by it, as though he hadn't realized he was capable of such an orgasm, and started to open his mouth, as though to apologize.

Rich whined. "P-please...please, put your fingers in me or something, babe, please?"

Jeremy seemed all too quick to comply, curving two fingers within Rich's body, where his cock had been. They weren't nearly as thick or as long, but the angle of the knuckles hit him in just the right way. Rich's legs had been dropped, no longer around Jeremy's waist, and his toes scraped helplessly against the bed as he tried to rut himself against Jeremy's touch. He was so close. He was so so close. He could feel Jeremy's cum dribbling down his body, and Michael's cock growing soft within his ass, Michael still slumped and panting tiredly, and Rich was chasing after his own mounting climax with a sense of hazy delirium.

"Please please I want to cum I want to cum please let me cum please let me cum!"

He couldn't separate his sentences or stop his tongue. But Jeremy dropped to his knees, his lips kissing down to his cunt. His tongue barely began to tease his clit, his fingers flexing and thrusting and pistoning in and out of him, before Rich began to weep, thighs clamping together tight, trapping Jeremy's hand.

His world exploded in sparks and ash as he came, dizzy and sudden and sharp. He wobbled against the rope, cumming as though it were his first--and it was in a sense a first, at least in this newly reincarnated body. Michael began to pull out of him, and the movement just shot more sparks of pleasure through Rich's overstimulated body, and he moaned desperately.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

Holy FUCK.

They were quiet for several minutes, the three of them nestled upright together, two boys kneeling, one dangling. Jeremy's head rested against Rich's chest, while Michael's was against his shoulderblade from behind. Rich's eyes had closed, still taking in the occasional fluttering release of pressure within his own pleasured body.

"Whoa," Michael finally said, breaking the reverence of their silence.

"Yeah," Rich added. "Whoa's right, bro."

"Th...that was incredible." Jeremy peeled his cheek away from Rich's skin, looking up at him with a deliciously sweet smile. "Wish I'd...I should have filmed it."

"Fucking hell, Queere," Rich snickered. "There'll be plenty of time for that." He couldn't help the smile, the burning in his shoulders nearly agonizing now. Living was painful. Painful and difficult and a pain in the ass--literally, he thought, as he felt the way his ass ached from being thoroughly boned. 

But he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
